


Nate’s Shirt—The Am I Dreaming Job

by crayonbreakygal



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 14:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6333130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sophie needed to learn that head butting a mob guy makes her have interesting dreams.  Or is it a dream?--Takes place during The Beantown Bailout Job, season two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nate’s Shirt—The Am I Dreaming Job

During The Beantown Bailout Job, season two. I keep changing what happens during and after an episode. It is so much fun to play around with these two.

Nate’s Shirt—The Am I Dreaming Job

He looked good, really good. Minimal scruff, eyes clear, hair neat and somewhat trimmed, suit pressed. He seemed a bit more bitter, or creepier as Parker had noted. The man’s mind was fascinating, but still creepy.

Sophie hadn’t been kidding Eliot when she told him what Nate had underneath his bed. Well, maybe just a tad. He had the regular guy stuff like old shoes (he just moved, how could he have old shoes), an errant sock or two, and clippings of all the plays Sophie ever acted in in a shoe box. She had almost had time to open another box that wasn’t labeled, but had been stopped by the noise downstairs. She knew, just knew there was something incriminating in there.

If that boyfriend wasn’t around, she’d confront Nate right at that moment, and even followed him up the stairs to his condo to do just that, except she was interrupted by mob guy. Dammit all to hell and back. They never did get a break.

The boyfriend was just a distraction, her idea of a regular life. Yeah, like that would ever happen. He was cute enough, tall, dark hair, good job, boring as hell and the one time they ended up in bed, boring as hell.

Taking care of Nate after she slammed that cookie sheet into his head was less boring than spending time with the boyfriend. Funny how she couldn’t remember the guy’s name at the moment.

Here Nate goes and gets himself clean, asks her out and she isn’t available. She could have been available. Sophie was just using the boyfriend as an excuse. She had no idea what the man was doing that night. Just an excuse.

As Nate groaned in his sleep, Sophie looked him over again. She wondered if he would wake up if she gave him a simple kiss goodnight. The hit hadn’t been that hard, had it?

“I can hear you thinking all the way over here,” Nate finally announced.

Sophie stopped in her tracks. How did he know she was still around?

“What makes you think I’m thinking?” Sophie winced at that idiotic comment. Hanging around Hardison was taking a toll on her vocabulary. She was starting to talk like him.

“You’re pacing, attempting to be quiet. You stop every so many feet, pause, walk again. There’s a certain cadence.”

Now he’s sounding like Eliot, the bastard. Not Eliot being a bastard, but Nate. Eliot could be one entirely on his own.

“Oh, just shove it, Nate.”

Slowly, he sat up on the sofa, holding his head in his hands.

“Cookie sheet? That’s what you hit me with?”

“At least it wasn’t a frying pan,” Sophie laughed as she told him.

“There is that.”

Nate smiled her way. He must feel a bit better if he was smiling. Sitting down at the other end of the couch, Sophie looked down at her feet, waiting for him to say something.

“Boyfriend?”

“Not talking about that. Why was there a bad guy in your apartment?”

“Changing the subject? You’re so good at that.”

“Someone tried to harm you.”

“And you were there to save me. Nice head butt.”

Nate looked at Sophie; Sophie looked at Nate.

“Kind of hurt. I think I might have broken his nose.”

There was a half a sofa in between them. Sophie thought about closing the distance. It had been so long since they were close. Six months was too long, much too long.

“Let me take a look,” Nate asked.

“Well, maybe I should look again to make sure you’re OK,” Sophie replied.

“You first,” Nate told her as he moved closer.

Gently, she rubbed his forehead and nose, checking for bumps. He winced a little, but nothing was broken or damaged. The few hours of sleep that he was able to get took care of most of the hurt.

“You’ll live.”

“Glad to hear that. I was worried.”

Sophie stuck her tongue out at his smart ass comment. Was the room getting warmer or was it her head telling her that maybe something was a bit wrong?

Nate gently probed her head for bumps, smoothing down her forehead, running a finger down her nose. He stopped at her lips. Tracing them softly, he pulled his fingers back when her eyes closed.

“Shouldn’t you check for other injuries?” she whispered as she watched him through almost closed eyes.

Nate’s lips brushed up against her forehead now. She shivered at the light touch.

“All better,” he whispered in her ear.

“Never. Not really. Might need more help.”

God, she hated begging him for more contact. The man had the patience of a saint. Must have been why he wanted to be a priest at some point. Wonder how the no sex thing entered into the equation? She could never see him going for that, except, as far as she knew, he’d been celibate for at least the last year. So had she, blast it, except for that one time, which almost didn’t count. And it had been at least two years since his divorce. Yes, the patience of a saint.

Only he didn’t make another move. She opened her eyes to stare right into his. Stupid dilemma. Did he think she had the morals that he did? That boyfriend didn’t matter. She’d show him the boyfriend didn’t matter.

“Close your eyes,” she told him as she moved in closer still.

Placing a kiss on his temple, she moved around, hoping to cover all the bases of where his head could be hurt. As she hovered over his lips, she hesitated just a bit. If she did this, there would be no turning back. He wasn’t married; she wasn’t married. Boyfriend does not count, especially since she couldn’t remember his name.

She held her breath as she moved to his lips. Sophie waited for him to reject her, push her back and tell her no, to think about what she was doing. He did none of that. But he also didn’t participate.

“Hmm, problem?”

“I just, um, wanted to make sure this isn’t a problem with what’s his name. No regrets and…”

Sophie stopped him by diving in and shutting him up. Now she figured out how to make him stop talking. She should have kissed him last year instead of letting him talk so much. His lips were warm and soft and inviting. And causing all sorts of pleasure to race up and down her spine.

What felt like twenty minutes later, she came up for breath because she was becoming dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

“Better?” she asked.

“Well, you see, no, not so much.”

If that wasn’t an invitation, then she had misjudged the whole situation. Climbing over him, she settled herself on his lap to gain better access. He groaned at her actions, thrusting forward as she pulled on his hair. If they didn’t stop right that instant, then nothing could.

“Hey, you OK?” Nate asked, sounding very far away.

She needed to unzip those jeans he had on right away.

“Sophie, hands.”

What was he talking about, hands? Of course she was using her hands and her lips and possibly…

“Not sure that’s such a great idea, sweetheart.”

Not a good idea? He was bailing on her, again? She opened her eyes to find herself stretched out on an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar bedroom.

“Oh, um, what happened?” Sophie asked as she noticed that he was attempting to hold her hands at bay.

“You remember head butting that guy? You told me your head hurt a little and stumbled up here to rest. I was worried?” he winced at the last statement

“Dream. Just dreaming is all.”

It was a dream? She’d finally be able to see him, feel him and it was all a dream?

“I heard moaning. Thought maybe you had a concussion.”

He still held her hands in his. Nate dropped them quickly as soon as her eyes moved to the contact.

“Maybe? I do feel a bit strange, now that you ask.” And hot and horny as hell.

Nate, none too gently, felt around for bumps on her forehead.

“Careful,” she told him, making him pull his fingers away quickly.

“Must be OK then. Eliot can look if you want.”

“No, he cannot,” she blurted out.

“OK. Um, I’m going back downstairs. You can stay up here all you want. Everyone else seems to think they can, why not you?”

She sighed as he rose from the bed. He still looked good, she thought. Staring at her a bit longer, he abruptly turned on his heels and practically ran out of the room.

“Argh. Bloody bastard. It must take an anvil to get his attention.”

Bouncing off the bed, she flung the closet doors open, thinking it was the bathroom. Pulling her top over her head, she pulled the first shirt she saw on the hanger off and put it on. If she was going to stay over, she might as well be comfortable. It felt good to pull the bra off too. Pants came last, along with those boots she found on sale at Macy’s.

She should check on him. The blow to his head could be serious too. She’d hit him fairly hard. Also, Sophie felt she needed to apologize. Winding her way down the spiral staircase, she found him sitting on the sofa, staring off into space.

“I just wanted to check up on you before I go to bed. It’s much too late to go home and I thought I should make sure you’re OK.”

“That’s my shirt.”

“I hope you don’t mind.”

It smelled like him, was soft in all the right places.

“No. You go ahead. I’ll be down here, thinking.”

Placing a small kiss on his forehead, she started to head back up the stairs.

“Sophie?”

She stopped.

“You don’t have anything on underneath that, do you?”

“Um, no, I don’t. Why?”

Honestly was the best policy in this case. He waited to reply.

“That’s, nice,” came out almost like he couldn’t breathe. “Boyfriend?”

Not again. “No, no boyfriend. I can’t even remember his name.”

He slowly got up from the sofa and turned to her.

“You didn’t happen to perhaps yell my name when,” Nate started, being stopped by Sophie placing a hand on his chest.

She could feel how wildly his heart beat, feel how his breathing was fast.

“Maybe? It was only once and he was horrible.”

She didn’t realize how fast the man could move. He had her up and in his arms.

 

Nate awoke the next morning with a raging headache, backache, neckache. Sleeping on the couch would do that to one who was used to sleeping in his own bed. Alone, but in his own bed. He was having the weirdest dreams all night long in addition to being uncomfortable. Sophie was near. He could feel it.

There was crunching, annoying crunching not far from his ear. Opening his eyes, he saw a nun hovering over him. Was this a dream? A nun with Parker’s face. Now that had to be a dream. Hadn’t he told them all to clear out? The team was there, attempting to make his life miserable again. Parker and her cereal, Eliot and his fists, Hardison and his tech.

Sophie appeared moments later, coming from upstairs. She had his shirt on. When had that happened?

“Hope you don’t mind?” she announced.

Hope he doesn’t mind? Did she think he minded his shirt next to her body? He would remember that, even concussed.

“Is that my shirt?”

Leaning over him when no one else was looking, he could see that there was nothing else on underneath.

“Head better?” she whispered in his ear.

“Not really.”

She smiled, but didn’t say another word.

 


End file.
